


Raindrops on a Window Pane

by Emeraldawn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Daydreaming, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, handjob, porn just porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26927431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeraldawn/pseuds/Emeraldawn
Summary: Rain on a hot summer night wakes Merlin with a need.
Relationships: Elyan/Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Leon/Merlin (Merlin), Merlin/Percival (Merlin)
Kudos: 64





	Raindrops on a Window Pane

**Author's Note:**

> This is an expanded drabble on a challenge I wrote for Merlin porn-a-thon a billion years ago. I don't even remember the challenge or the year. I just found it with some deleted lines on my drive and said, "well hell I can make thing more a thing and post it." So I did, so enjoy. Or don't.

Merlin woke from a boom of thunder rolling over the citadel. The storm raging outside charged the atmosphere with electricity that made the very space Merlin was in buzz as if the air was alive. His skin tingled, every nerve awake. Much like how he felt when his magic was active, rolling under his skin. 

Rolling onto his back, Merlin stared at the black ceiling watching the lightning dance across the stone. He had already kicked his blanket off to the floor, preferring to feel as close to nothing on his skin as possible in the hot summer air. Drumming his fingers on his bare stomach, to a tune played out by the fat drops of rain hitting the stone walls, Merlin felt more restless as time crawled on. There was no way he was going back to sleep at this rate.

It was hard to guess the time with the turbulent storm covering the stars and moon, but if he had to guess it would be hours before anyone woke. Leaving him awake, alone and bothered, with his thoughts.

His drumming fingers progressed into strokes on his skin, as Merlin let his mind wander,  to nothing in particular, an unfocused walk through the day's events. Mostly about Arthur being a prat. Making him muck stalls in the heat. Having to fetch and gather useless things from opposite ends of the castle. Having Merlin dress him in day clothes. Then in armor.  _ Then _ in different clothes for dinner.  _ Then again _ for bed. And of course, the intense training with the knights Arthur made him participate in. 

Today had been particularly hot and muggy, as nature prepared for the summer storm approaching Camelot. Arthur, however, thought it was perfect time to work his Knights on their drills until the heat and the sweat had the field filled with damp shirtless Knights, whom Merlin was in charge of keeping hydrated. 

It was like a scene that had played out numerous times behind Merlin’s eyelids, only now he had vivid details to pepper it with. 

Merlin’s strokes got bolder, as he remembered the salty smell of Leon’s sweat when he toweled off during a brief respite. How his sweat-damp hair would curl at the nape of his neck, sweat trailing down the curve of his shoulder. Merlin could easily see himself looking up at Leon, his hair the same mussed, sodden look, as Merlin ran his hands along the planes of Leon’s chest. Merlin would pull him down, feeling the heavy weight upon his body. Leaning in, he’d lick along Leon’s neck, tasting the salty skin. 

Or, thinking of the way Elyan’s Adam's apple bobbed as he drank cup-fulls of water, causing Merlin’s breath to hitch and hips to wiggle on his straw mattress. It wasn’t hard envisioning what Elyan's throat would feel like wrapped around Merlin’s cock. How his strong hand would secure Merlin to the armory bench, so Elyan could control the pace. He’d swallow Merlin down until his nose was buried in dark, coarse curls. Then he would pull up slowly, with a deep hum, evoking a heat that would leave Merlin shivering. 

Then there was Percy, with his muscles that rolled under his skin like waves on the ocean when he moved. Merlin wondered what Percival’s body would feel like under Merlin’s touch. The man was strong and never seemed to tire. The very thought of how Percy could hold Merlin up against a wall as he pounded into him had Merlin gripping his hardened cock, his long fingers wrapped around his shaft. 

But, as always, his mind focused on Gwaine when heat pooled in his groin, falling out of a rhythmed pace, trying to build the feeling. 

More times than Merlin could count, he would play Gwaine’s lewd comments and brash stories over in his mind, threading them into Merlin’s fantasies. The idea that the man had the knowledge to play Merlin’s body like a fiddle had Merlin pumping his cock with a sharp slap of flesh. 

Merlin could picture himself as the prey in many of his bragged conquests. Gwaine pulling him into a dark, shadowed alcove and covering his mouth with one hand, while he used his sword-callused fingers on the other to work Merlin open. The cold stone scraping his back whilst he struggled to keep his moans quiet from a passing guard, before Gwaine pulled them both toward the ground. Merlin would maneuver his body in such a way that he could ride Gwaine’s cock like one would ride a horse at full gallop. Much like Gwaine bragged about many a barmaid. 

Or he’d lay Merlin out on the very table he supped at, putting his mouth to better use than eating. His hot tongue flat, tracing its way up the vein on the side of Merlin's cock, before pulling Merlin in so deep that he would be able to feel Gwaine’s throat constrict around the head of his cock. He’d pull at Merlin, sucking him down with hollowed cheeks, fingers pressing into the flesh behind Merlin’s balls. A flash of white lightning hit behind Merlin’s eyelids and his toes curled as he fantasized the seed leaking from his cock slide down Gwaine’s throat. Just like that stable boy who once looked after Gwaine’s horse when he was without a coin.

The idea played so many times in Merlin’s head that he entertained the notion, on more than one occasion, to leave his bed and go to Gwaine, asking him to make his fantasy into reality. To finally know how being touched by another’s hand would feel. What it would feel like to have his body licked, and sucked, and stretched until his skin felt like it was on fire. To finally know the feeling of having a cock fill him. To have a hand hold him down with strength enough to leave bruises on his hips. To know if he would beg or shout or whimper for Gwaine to fill him again and again, or if the only sounds in the room would be their panting breaths and the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin. 

But Merlin never left his bed, choosing the security of his friendships over the risk of endangering them. Instead, he laid in bed, playing out the fantasies in his mind. Until he came with the name of a knight clenched in his teeth.


End file.
